


Happy Reunion

by Gay Romance Book Club (TheRealFailWhale)



Category: Black Books (TV)
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 05:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19996492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealFailWhale/pseuds/Gay%20Romance%20Book%20Club
Summary: Bernard and Manny reunite after Manny's ill-fated runaway attempt. Takes place at the end of S1E6.





	Happy Reunion

Manny had been gone for several days at this point, and Bernard wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

Fran was being dramatic, had been over-dramatic in fact, ever since the police woman had thought Manny was their son. As though Bernard would ever have a child Fran. They’d always used protection in the past to prevent just such a thing. But now she’d announced that she needed to be away from him for a while, all because she blamed  _ him _ for Manny leaving.

Hardly.

Manny was just...too much! He practically annoyed himself. Impossible not to with all the humming, the dancing, the talking, the--the--the  _ cheerfulness _ . It was nonsensical and Bernard could only suppose that Manny had been driven away by how normal Bernard was.

Yes. That was it. Manny had lived with Bernard long enough to realize that  _ he  _ was the odd one, the one with the insane quirks. And so he’d left, unable to face his own bizarre-ness any longer.

As he made his way down to the shop one morning, Bernard felt grimier than usual. He’d rubbed a damp towel over his body, ran a wet toothbrush across his teeth, and tousled his hair so it looked less bed-head and more just untidy. All of this was normal. On his way out to his desk, he grabbed a bit of toast and hunted for a nice morning red. At last he flung himself into his chair and surveyed his domain.

Books were piled haphazardly around the shop, some ordered by subject, some by author, some by title, and some just crammed wherever they fit. Manny had occasionally tried to organize them, but Bernard usually swept after him and moved things around once more. If the books were easy to find, people would buy them all.

Dusty sunlight streamed through the windows over the front wall. It was nearly time to open.

With a groan, Bernard shuffled some papers around on his desk and finished his toast. It was a bit stale, but it wasn’t the worst breakfast he’d ever had. Slowly Bernard stopped faking efficiency and just slumped in his chair, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

He was fine, of course. His life was simply back to the way it was before Manny the idiot had come bumbling into his tiny, dirty bookshop off Russell Square. Quiet. Easy. Full of drinking. A bit more chores being done by Bernard than he preferred, but it wasn’t that bad. He could survive without Manny. He’d done so for thirty years already, hadn’t he?

There was a rap at the front door, jerking Bernard out of his reverie. He swiveled his chair to look out the window and saw a little old lady with glasses peering through the filthy window. Groaning, Bernard got up and went to unlock the door.

“Oh good morning,” said the old woman querulously. “I wasn’t sure if you were opening today--”

“Yes, yes, we’re open, get in already,” Bernard snapped at her, waving his hand to sweep her toward his books. The woman looked mildly affronted but came in anyway as Bernard returned to his seat. He grabbed the nearest book--Austen--and settled in to read, pretending not to hear when the woman asked him questions.

The next few hours crept by, with a slow but steady influx of patrons. Bernard cobbled together a sandwich for lunch (stale bread, lettuce, and possibly off mayonnaise), which he ate with a glass of wine. His breakfast bottle was nearly gone.

It was sometime around two that afternoon when Bernard glanced up at the latest patron and did a double take. Then a triple take.

It was Manny.

Framed by sunshine in the doorway was the dirty blonde, scraggly-bearded, scruffy-looking Manny. Their eyes met across the shop and Bernard forget whether there was anyone else there or not.

“Hello,” said Manny awkwardly, shutting the door behind him.

“H-hello,” Bernard replied, taken aback at the relief that had swept through him upon seeing this idiot again.

“Sorry I’m late,” mumbled Manny after a slight pause. He smiled, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“No, you’re not late. No...don…” he managed to mutter in response, voice pitched higher than usual.

Manny glanced around and noticed the step ladder by the front window. Bernard had set it there yesterday, half intending to put up a new display.

“Shall I get on with the…?” Manny began, jerking a thumb at the lot.

“You don’t have to, no…” Bernard jumped in.

“I-I don’t mind--” Manny insisted, shrugging his backpack onto the floor.

“No, it’s entirely up to you, I mean--”

“I really don’t--”

“No if you want--”

They both devolved into half-hearted, confused mumbling at that point, Bernard taking in Manny’s face. He admitted, annoyingly, that he’d missed him.

They settled for nodding at each other, and Manny dropped his jacket by his bag on the floor and climbed up the ladder, beginning to set out books for the display. Bernard simply watched him, appreciating the familiar sight of Manny’s unkempt hair and jeans. Every so often Manny would look around at Bernard, who would pretend to be absorbed in his book. But his eyes were continuously drawn back to the form by the window.

Not long after this, Fran walked in. She made no mention of Manny’s sudden reappearance, saying only “good morning” to both of them before settling down in her customary chair by Bernard’s desk. As she opened her magazine, she did give Bernard a look that clearly said she was pleased, and then she and Manny began discussing some man’s trousers.

For the next few hours until closing time, Bernard read at his desk and Manny puttered around the shop, straightening books and cleaning up the occasional bit of bread that Bernard had scattered about during his meals. Eventually Fran left, promising to come back the next day with more wine and magazines.

For some reason, Bernard was very eager for the shop to close. Admittedly he always was, but he felt that some decision was coming to a peak inside him, and that it would coincide with locking the door and turning the closed sign around.

At long last, evening arrived.

“Shall I lock up then?” asked Manny, standing by the door and gesturing lamely.

“Mmm, sure.” Bernard closed his book and set it aside, getting up as Manny closed up the front. Bernard’s feet carried him around his desk, and he leaned against it, legs stretched out before him.

Manny came to stand in front of him.

“So,” Manny said, and then fell silent.

“So,” Bernard agreed. The moment was in him, he could feel it building within his chest.

“Sorry,” said Manny. “For leaving, I mean. I shouldn’t have--”

Bernard lunged forward and grabbed Manny by the neck. Clearly expecting murder, Manny tried to leap backward, but only succeeded in falling, bringing Bernard down on top of him.

That worked.

Bernard crushed his mouth to Manny’s, knowing he tasted of cigarettes and wine, tasting the tea on Manny’s own lips. Pure shock seemed to freeze Manny until Bernard broke away to catch his breath.

“Glad you’re back,” Bernard panted, enjoying the puzzled expression Manny wore.

The look of confusion vanished without a word as Manny grabbed the back of Bernard’s head and brought their lips together again. They devoured each other, as though this was something they’d both been waiting for ever since they’d moved in together. Bernard could feel the hardness on each of them where it met in the middle, and he ground down into Manny, which elicited a weird yip from the other man.

With a swiftness that Bernard hadn’t expected, Manny rolled them to the side, accidentally knocking Bernard’s head into a pile of books. Neither of them cared very much at the moment. Bernard felt Manny’s hand leave the back of his head and travel down the length of him, until it rubbed Bernard’s cock through his trousers. Bernard growled and jerked his hips upward, wanting and needing more from the other man.

Manny’s hand disappeared again, shortly followed by the other hand on his head. Bernard then heard the distinct sound of a zipper, and opening his eyes he watched as Manny pulled back to his knees as he--

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

Bernard quickly jerked down his own trousers, cock springing free to stand straight up. But his eyes were on Manny’s hands, which had just finished rolling on a condom.

“Alright?” asked Manny, voice lilting in a question.

“About time,” growled Bernard.

Manny pulled Bernard’s calves up to rest on his hips, and then began to gently handle Bernard’s cock. He was fiercely ready.

“Come on, you--you moron,” Bernard managed to gasp as the sensation of Manny’s fingers crept over him. They were calloused, and the rough skin slid over the smooth flesh of his dick in a way that felt better than anything he’d ever had.

Though the next sensation quickly eclipsed this conclusion.

Bernard could only feel what happened after Manny slid his cock inside him. Eyes closed, he held on as the other man filled him again and again, while one hand pumped his cock. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, and all Bernard managed to say during those few minutes were things like, “fuck,” “moron,” and “yes,” with a few other curses sprinkled in randomly.

When Bernard finally came, he felt Manny quicken his pace to finish as well, and they both collapsed to the floor, Manny coming to rest on top of him.

The pair of them lay there for some time, each panting and occasionally moaning as the pleasure died down. When Bernard felt his mind return to normal at last, he realized that the sun had gone and they lay in darkness. Manny carefully pushed himself up until he was hovering over Bernard’s face.

With a cheeky grin, Manny said, “Glad to be back.”

  
  



End file.
